Kokoro
by PrincipalCellist
Summary: /I was a robot made by a lonely scientist. But I was missing the one thing that could not be made./ Puzzleshipping. Other genres include angst, friendship, family, hurt/comfort, romance.
1. Awaken

Welcome, my wonderful readers, to another story. For those of you who are new and haven't read my stories before: hello. For all my returning readers: _THANK YOU FOR STICKING WITH MY SHIT. _So, here it is. Kokoro features something that I've never done before: artificial intelligence. I've always wanted to try it, so, well, here we are.

The story is based from the song "Kokoro" by Rin Kagamine. I heard it, and it was like a sign from above, telling me it was time to do an AI story. I hope you all enjoy it. If you don't...well, you can always stop reading it if you don't like it. Anywho, let's get this started. I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or Vocaloid. Yadda, yadda - disclaimer.

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><p><em>I was a robot made by a lonely scientist.<em>  
><em>To say it simply, I was a "miracle."<em>  
><em>But I was still missing one thing that could not be made.<em>  
><em>That is called Kokoro*.<em>

_I am a program._

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><p>In the beginning, there was nothing. A complete absence of everything. Just pure darkness pushing in from all sides, so dark it felt solid, leaving no room for anything else like thoughts or senses. No light, no air, no sound, so scent. Nothing to be seen, nothing to be heard. Nothing to taste or touch. A vast nothing that would soon later become part of my every day life. But that's getting ahead of the story. In the darkness, even these words that you are reading right now meant absolutely <em>nothing.<em>

It was in this closed-in space of darkness and silence that I was trapped. There was nothing, nothing, nothing... But isn't that odd? I was in a place of nothing, yet I was something. A small conscious...what was I doing there? How could I be if nothing existed? Could there ever truly be nothing? If nothing is where I was, then maybe I was nothing. Impossible, because I was something. Or, at least, I was meant to be something. The situation was confusing. I was confusing to myself. All of this was my first fully aware thoughts.

_Why am I here? What was I built for?_

"Now open your eyes."

And then, suddenly, there was _everything_. A switch being flipped. There were so many sounds and lights and aromas surrounding me. I could feel it as the cool air touched my new skin, leaving little goose bumps. My mouth, so dry, opened up and I gasped quick streams of oxygen into my new lungs. I blinked, trying to right the world. Lungs? How could I breathe when I was not human? I shouldn't have to need air. How was all this - breathing, seeing, feeling, _living -_ possible? The cold of the metal seat I was sitting on bit into my flesh, and I shivered. I could smell the faint scent of body wash. There was heartbeat? Steady breathing coming from somewhere near me. The lights became less bright to my eyes as I grew accustomed to it.

Everything had came at me all at once; like a wave in the ocean, crashing over its self again and again until finally breaking on land.

This is where the other experiments had crashed. The sudden transition from the nothing to everything - from off to on - overloaded them. One by one, they broke. They failed. They _died_. But I was still hanging on. My strand of fate was still intact. This was what it meant to be alive; these senses. Change was constant. Nothing ever stays the same. I moved and breathed and _lived._ My receptors worked over time to take everything in and store it away into my new memory, filling in the empty space. I could feel the seconds ticking by. I waited patiently, on edge, for my judgement. Would my system overload and fail, like the others before me? Would I, too, be unable to grasp hold of the hand of life? Was I to die?

I blinked again and looked up to the man standing in front of me, testing out my new found sight - I should see what I can of this world before my system crashed. He was on the shorter side, wearing a green bandanna over his gray hair. He had deep purple eyes framed by wrinkles. He wore faded blue overalls and stood with one hand behind his back - as if it hurt. He stared at me and I stared back. We were both waiting. Waiting for the moment where my system would fall apart or miraculously run.

_What is it like to die?_

The sound of a clock was somewhere close by. I noticed the watch on the man's wrist. It ticked on, as it's supposed to, and I counted each tick silently. A minute crept by, then two. Halfway through the third, his mouth turned up at the corners. He nodded, satisfied. With what? What did that mean? I hadn't crashed yet, so I assumed it was a good sign. I sat straighter, ready to use my muscles for the first time now that I was apparently not going to crash. I was different from the others. I was still here. I reached up carefully and touched my face, feeling the smooth skin grafted there. Yes, I was still here. I was alive. Breathing, pulsing, and being. My system was running steady. I could feel my processors slowing down, already haven filed all the new, sudden information away and regulating. I looked around the room. It had been slightly over five minutes since my boot. To make sure everything was running properly, I needed to run diagnostics.

** System boot check... Language: Japanese. Running sensory diagnostics...Vision: COMPLETE. Hearing: COMPLETE. Taste: ERROR...** I held my breath and waited. **Shutting down tastebuds. Rebooting... Retesting... Taste: COMPLETE. **The breath flew out of me, and I continued the test.** Touch: COMPLETE. Smell: COMPLETE. Auto update of date and time... Loading speech... Saving system memory... Boot up: 100% complete.** I closed the diagnostics. I looked down at my hands, running another test. **Checking all joints for mobility...** I bent my fingers at the knuckles. I turned my wrists, bent my elbow. Then I rolled my shoulders; hunching them, pulling them back. I stretched my legs out in front of me, and froze. My left knee had creaked and didn't move right. I immediately checked it again. **Scanning knee... 5%...10%... ERROR: disconnected wire. Connect wire and try again.** I bent over and touched my fingers to the underside of my knee. Carefully, I peeled back the skin that was covering smooth metal. I located the wire immediately and secured it back in place. After covering the metal again, I stretched out my leg in front of me, concentrating hard. **Knee scan COMPLETE.** I proceeded with the test; pointing my feet, curling my toes. Then I let them fall back flat on the floor. **SYSTEM CHECK COMPLETE. NO ERRORS FOUND.** Everything was working as it should. I was fine. As of this moment, I was not going to die.

"Good morning," The man greeted. He had watched me very intensely while running the test.

"Good morning," I replied, using my voice for the first time. My first words.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Solomun Mutou." I answered, tapping into my new data banks. "You created me. Age in years, 63. Retired archaeologist. Lives alone. No living family is recorded—"

"That's enough," He said, a strange, short noise came from his mouth. I realized it to be what humans called laughter. I had more information about him, of course - after all, everything was based on logic and data - but I stopped talking, awaiting his next command. "Is your system running properly?"

"Yes."

"Would you do one more run through for me?" He asked. I scanned through everything once again, my brain working as fast as the speed of light. It didn't take as long this time, and the second test came up with the same results as the first. I was running perfectly.

"There are no problems, master."

"Good," He placed a hand on my shoulder. I blinked down and looked at it, nonplussed. My data quickly alerted me that humans crave contact. They strive for the comfort that comes with the knowledge that they are not alone. A hand on the shoulder was meant to be friendly gesture, reasuuring. But that was all I knew. I was supposed to smile or nod in return, but it didn't feel right. So I just stayed silent. "Your name is Atem." He said. I registered the exotic name and filed it away. It was Egyptian. It fell in perfectly with my data on him; he enjoyed history, especially ancient Egypt. Spent two years abroad there, searching the ruins. "You don't have to call me that, by the way."

I furrowed my eyebrows.  
>"Should I call you creator?" I asked.<p>

He laughed loudly.  
>"Oh, goodness. Neither, please. I'm old, you can just call me grandpa."<p>

He was an odd man. "Very well, Grandfather." I filed this preference away. There was so much to learn, and I'd only just begun. I did not understand the reasons behind my existence, and even though the question was on the tip of my tongue, I did not ask. I didn't need to know why I was made. I was here. I was built by this man for whatever reason he desired. It was not required for me to know reasons. Nothing mattered but his wishes.

That was how my life started. I was "born" and named, just like any other human. But I was not human. I was more than a machine, yet still not human. There was no way I could ever be truly human. I was something new. Something that had never been done before. I was a living, breathing super computer—an artificial intelligence that was made to reflect humans like a mirror would. I was also something that should have never existed. Something that should havenever been attempted. But my creator could not be blamed for that. He had no idea. He didn't know the future. He didn't know that I would cause him to work himself to death.

But we will get to that later.

After watching me carefully for a few moments, Grandfather sighed and walked away. He stopped in front of his computer, searching.  
>"It seems something is still missing. I can't believe I missed this crucial part. You are still not complete." He mused to himself. I said nothing. Better to say nothing than risk contradicting my creator. It went against all of my programming. I <em>was<em> complete. I had turned on. My system hadn't crashed. _I was alive._

"I do not understand, grandfather." I finally told him after a long period of silence. "I am very much complete." I stood up and took my first steps over to him, like a child would with it's parents, except instead of stumbling and falling, I walked straight and sturdy as if I'd already been doing it for years. "There are no problems with my system. Would you like me to run another test?"

"No, no..." He looked at me, an emotion playing in his deep eyes. My data first alerted me that it was sadness. Then it altered. No, it was something like sadness, very similar, but different - more powerful. It was loneliness. I had no experience with it. I didn't feel it. I couldn't. I could physically reach out and touch his shoulder, but I could not _feel_ things he could. Emotions. This sadness…this feeling of being lonely… I would never know what it felt like. I would never be happy or sad or angry. I will never lash out in a rage or cry. I could not be mentally or emotionally hurt in ways other humans could.

I concluded that this was actually a good thing. I knew from my data that humans were slaves to their emotions. That they sometimes could not control them. Some humans feared that robots like me would become too smart, too able, and overpower them. Perhaps it was true, perhaps it was not. Maybe a robot with no emotions would not be a bother to them. I do not have the means to hate humans enough to want to end them. I felt no urge to destroy at all. I discarded all that information, deciding it to be of no importance to me. All I was meant for was to do whatever my creator wished.

_I wonder; does loneliness feel like the nothing I was in before?_

"What your missing… I don't think it's something I can give you." He replied softly. "You are just a program. You don't have a heart. You will probably never be able to feel emotions."

"A heart." I said, because he looked as if he wished me to reply. "A hollow muscular organ that pumps blood through the circulatory system by rhythmic contraction and dilation. In humans there four chambers; two atria and two ventricle. It is also used in reference to the center of total personality, especially with intuition, feeling, or—"

Grandfather held up a hand, cutting me off.  
>"Atem, you really don't have to do that. Actually, please <em>stop<em> doing that."

I looked at his hand, then back to his face.  
>"Do what, Grandfather?"<p>

"Just...defining everything." He rubbed his forehead. "Not everything needs a definition. Something's just...are. Things happen without rhyme or reason."

I shook my head. I could not understand this. But I kept my silence. His mouth flipped up again. A smile, used to show happiness or amusement. But I could still see that dark loneliness buried in his eyes. The light on his face did not reach them. I tilted my head slightly, trying to copy his expression, but it felt odd. Not natural. I wasn't made to do such things. What would smiling do for me? I was made, based, and supposed to live on facts. I stopped trying to copy his look. Things like emotions seemed pointless to me.

"Don't worry," he said - not that I could, anyway. "I'll figure something out. Until then, let's teach you about the world. I'll show you around."

"The world is very big, Grandfather." I alerted him, already calculating how long we would be gone.

"It's a figure of speech." He assured me. He stood up and grabbed a brown coat. "Maybe one day you will see the whole world, Atem. But for now we'll just look around the neighborhood." He grabbed some dark clothes off the desk next to him and held them out to me. "But first, I think you should get dressed. Nudity isn't something other humans like to see on the street." I looked down at the clothes. A navy blue jacket was on top of the pile. "Make sure you put that jacket on." He said. "It's cold out there."

_Could loneliness be described as cold, as well?_

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><p>*Kokoro means "heart" in Japanese.<p>

Please review~


	2. Living

"Grandfather, do I eat?" I asked as we approached a small food stand. The scent of hot dogs gathered around my nostrils. When I spoke, my breath came out of my mouth as a puff of steam. I compared it to a dragon's breath - a fictional animal. Grandfather had been right when he said it was cold. The weather outside made the cold metal chair against my skin back in the lab seem like nothing. It was the height of winter, so of course it would be, but even that knowledge didn't prepare me for the sudden drop in temperature as we stepped outside the house. As we walked, though, it didn't feel so bad anymore. My internal core was keeping me from freezing solid.

"No, you don't. You don't ever have to worry about eating." Grandfather answered. "You can intake food, of course, if you wish to. But you don't need it to survive."

"I see." I said. If I didn't need food to survive, did that mean I could stop breathing as well? Did I need air to survive, or was that programmed to make me seem more human? For reasons I couldn't say, I did not ask. I tilted my head up to stare at the sky. Clouds. More darkness. No matter where I went, it seemed darkness lingered. It had followed me out when I first booted up, lingering in the corners. Reminding me that it would be so easy for me to go back.

_What if the nothingness is actually hiding inside me?_

I quickly looked away from the clouds. Ridiculous. The darkness didn't have a hold on me any longer, I broke out of it. I was alive now. My system did not crash. The sun peeped out a little, a small ray shined down, and I wondered if it would snow today. My first time seeing snow. All I knew was that it was white and cold, the frozen form of water, but perhaps actually _seeing_ it was different. My data said that humans often referred snow as "romantic" and "magical".

"I suppose not eating will save some time in the future." I added for Grandfather's benefit, sensing he had been expecting me to say something. My eyes shifted over to the small food stand again, and I stopped walking when one of the customers caught my attention. He was in the middle of eating, if you could call what he was doing actually eating. He ate so fast that it was like he was just inhaling the food into his mouth. I wondered how he didn't choke. A piece of rice was stuck in the blonde hair that stopped just above his amber-like eyes. He shoved what was left on his plate in his mouth with expert ease and swallowed hard. Did all humans eat with such gusto? I couldn't imagine Grandfather eating like that. The man held out his now empty plate and asked the vendor for more.

"More?" The owner replied, stepping up next to the frazzled-looking employee, almost outraged. "You already had _three_!"

"It's not a problem as long as you get paid, right?" The blond asked. He dug into his pocket and slammed money onto the counter, looking annoyed. "See? I have money. I can pay for it. I ain't some bum or anything. What's the big deal?"

"We'll run out of food before you're finished!" The owner said, red-faced. I changed course and started walking over to them. Maybe I was more human than Grandfather and I thought, or maybe it was simply because I was programmed to not tolerate injustice.

"Correct me if I am wrong, but isn't there a motto that says 'The customer is always right'?" I asked the owner. Even _I_ knew what was fair and what wasn't. If the blond had money for the food, then there really wasn't any problem. If the owner got paid, then he could just go buy more food supplies. Problem solved. Grandfather's hand suddenly closed around my arm and he pulled me back gently.

"You shouldn't poke your nose in other people's business." He warned me, a slight smile on his lips. "It's considered rude and can get you into trouble. Please be careful."

Even though it went against all my programming, I argued back for the first time. "But, Grandfather, it is unreasonable—"

"Oh, hey!" The blonde looked at Grandfather, recognition showing on his face. "Gramps! How've you been?" He suddenly stood up, his little tiff with the owner already forgotten. Was he dim-witted? As he came over to us, I stepped between him and Grandfather. Was he a threat? Probably not. He didn't look mean or threatening, really. The blonde saw my movement and he stopped a couple feet from us, grinning in amusement.

"Who's the kid?" He commented, nodding to me.

"My name is Atem." I answered. "I am not a child."

"Jounouchi." Grandfather intervened, smiling widely. Seeing that they knew each other, I stepped aside, allowing Grandfather to approach the man. "How have you been? Still a bottomless pit, I see."

The man, Jounouchi, grinned and patted his stomach.  
>"I've been good. Really good. I got accepted into a community college. Can you believe it?"<p>

"I can, actually." Grandfather replied. "I always told you that you were smart—you just don't apply yourself."

Jou shot me a curious look. "So what was up with that earlier, man? How old are you?"

"Five hours, thirty-nine minutes, and fifteen seconds." I replied immediately. That was the time my internal clock told me, and I knew it was correct because it was synced to a satellite—just like a cellular phone. Jou broke out into loud laughter, causing some people to look over at us curiously. I tilted my head just slightly, not understanding. Had I said something amusing? No, I don't remember saying anything the deserved a laugh. Was this a normal reaction, then?

"This guy is a riot!" Jou managed, placing a hand on Grandfather's shoulder. "I wasn't expecting an answer like that—and he kept such a serious face, too! Priceless!" He looked to me. "But really, man. How old are ya?"

My brows furrowed. "I am five hou—" My repetition was stopped when Grandfather placed a hand on my shoulder. I immediately looked at him, waiting for instructions.

"Jou, this is Atem." Grandfather said to Jou. "I built him."

Jou's grin slowly slipped away, and he looked dumbfounded. Then his head whipped back to me, his eyes going wide. I stared back steadily, coming to believe that this man was, in fact, dim-witted. He opened his mouth and uttered a small sound, closed it, and quickly bent down so we were eye level. A normal reaction would have been to lean away from him, but I didn't move.

"No… You mean…?" He sounded completely astonished. "You actually got one of you're weird experiment things _running_?" He reached out and poked my cheek. "But…he looks so real!" He placed both his hands on either side of my face squishing my face. Oh, yes. This man was most definitely an idiot. "He feels real!"

"I _am_ real." I said through my squished lips. "Please refrain from touching me." I said, pulling Jou's hands off of me. I wasn't a real human, of course, but it didn't mean I wasn't _real_. I was alive, just like he was. Jou just ignored my statement. He lifted up my arm, testing my movementability, and dropped it. Then he moved his hand to my head and started mussing up my hair vigorously. "Will you stop it?" I asked. Jou jumped when I spoke, like he'd never heard someone speak before, and took a step back, unable to stop staring at me.

"So…wait. This isn't a dream, right?" Jou finally tore his eyes from me and looked at Grandfather. "I mean…I have to admit, gramps; when you first told me what you were doing, I thought you were going crazy. I thought robots were things of the future, you know? Like, things that were just for movies."

"Well, welcome to the future." Grandfather said with a light chuckle. Jou rubbed the back of his neck, deep in thought. Obviously it was a lot to take in for other people. I saw no importance in the matter. No, I guess it's better to say that I _couldn't_ see the importance, since I was so limited to expressing myself. For me, one man making an artificial intelligence like me was just part of life. As normal as a butterfly drinking nectar from a flower. For others it was probably both shocking and astonishing.

"So…wow. I don't know what to say." Jou managed. "This is amazing. Is he the only one?"

Grandfather nodded. "Yes. He was the only one to boot up without crashing, so far."

"Are you expecting him to break?" Jou asked, reaching over to touch my hair again - gentler this time now that he knew I was completely real. "I remember what you told me a while back - when you first started this project. About why you wanted to make him…" Jou's face became grim. "Is that why he looks sorta like Yug—"

"That's enough." Grandfather said softly. Even with is soft, kind tone, Jou clamped his mouth shut. Something strange passed between the two of them. Something unspeakable. A feeling that could not be described in words - as if they were now having a whole other conversation in their minds. I, in turn, looked at Grandfather's face. His tone had suggested that sadness and loneliness that I had seen lingering deep in his eyes when I first booted.

I look like... what exactly? What about why I was made? How could Jou know more about my existance than I did? I was on the verge of asking Grandfather, but, at the last minute, I thought better of it and stared at the ground. Even if the subject was about me, it wasn't my place to pry into my Grandfather's—my creator's—business. I was sure he had his reasons for making me as I was and why he didn't say anything about it to me. If it was important, he would inform me. But even still, I couldn't stop a small inkling making it's way across my mind. A small—for lack of a better word—_feeling_. A thought that kept plaguing me since I had first left a world of darkness and awakened in this world of light.

_Why was I created?_

I thought it was to do whatever my creator wished. But he stopped me at every turn when I tried to treat him as my master. I was no longer so sure about what I was meant to do or be.

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><p>Please review.<p> 


	3. Game

"Uno!" Jou called triumphantly, placing a red card on top of the pile between us. I blinked at the stack of already played cards, then looked at the three cards in my hand. This was an odd game. Apparently you could only play cards that were the same color. Or if you had what Jou called "wild cards", you could pick a different color. There were even cards that caused your opponent to miss their turn or draw more cards, which was like playing a double edged sword because that could either help or hurt them.

"How am I losing?" I asked, staring at my hand. I had something I could play for my turn, but… "I don't understand. I should be winning such a simple game."

Jou leaned back on his palms and shot me a victorious grin. "Everybody loses sometimes." He shrugged. "It's like dying – it happens to everyone, though we don't want it to." I raised an eyebrow, and he felt the need to continue. His eyes glanced upward, a sign that he was thinking. I've gotten very good at reading body language after being alive for three months and two weeks. Even though I could not feel emotions like they do, I could act and pretend if I studied them long enough. "Just like this game, everything comes to an end. We can't stop it, and though we try, we can't prolong it either."

"Is it over now?" I asked, nodding to the cards in my hand.

He laughed. "Not yet it's not. Soon, though. I got one card left. Let's see what you can do." I looked to my cards again. I had a red, a green, and a blue. There was no way I could win now – especially with this hand. With a sigh, I placed the red card down. Jou's face lit up, and he slammed down a yellow card on top of it.

"I win!" He shouted, shimmying in his spot – doing some kind of childish victory dance.

"Wait! How do you win?" I asked, pointing to the yellow card on top of the stack. "You're disqualified. Yellow does not match red."

"But the numbers match. See?" He pulled up his yellow three, showing me my own red three underneath.

I set my cards down next to the stack.  
>"If I had known you could match numbers as well as colors, I would've won the game <em>twelve<em> _turns_ ago."

Jou blinked, looked from me to the cards, then back.  
>"Oh. You didn't know that you could match numbers?"<p>

"No, I was not aware of that. You neglected to tell me that tidbit." I said calmly, folding my arms. "Your win is void."

"Okay, okay. I won't count it as a win, but as a lesson in teaching." He picked up the cards and shoved them all into one stack again. "That's my fault. I've never met someone who's never played Uno before. I didn't think..." He trailed off, and I remained silent, idly picking at the carpet under me. "Wanna play again?"

"I should apologize." I said, looking at Jou. "There are still a lot of things I don't know, even though I've been alive for quite some time now."

"It's no problem." He shrugged. "There's a lot of things to learn. You can't expect to know everything in two months. I just need to get used to it. I've never had a friend who knew so little about common games."

"We are friends?" The word was foreign on my tongue. I wondered what, exactly, being a friend entailed. We did hang out a lot since we met. Was that enough time to be considered a friend? Was there a ritual we had to do to be official friends? Was Grandfather my friend? I frowned slightly. No. Grandfather wasn't my friend. He was my creator. More of a parent than anything, though we shared no blood.

"What are you talking about?" Jou asked, breaking into my thoughts. "Of course we're friends! Why would I spend my spare time hanging out with a guy who wasn't my friend?"

Something deep inside, my common sense, was telling me not to say it, but I did anyway.  
>"Because I am not a human." I did not want to hurt his feelings - even by accident.<p>

"Oh, _god_." He simply rolled his eyes, his feelings intact. "So what? You're still living, though, aren't ya? Weren't you the one who told me that?"

"That is true." I nodded in agreement. "Why would you want to be my friend?"

"Because you're a real interesting guy."

"Am I?" This was…unexpected. I was simply made to cure Grandfather's loneliness. What was so interesting about that?

"The only problem I got with you is that you're so very narrow minded." Jou set the cards on the table and watched me. "It's like…you only think of things in a certain way. Night and day. Black and white. Nothing in between. No space for gray."

"That's how I was made. Everything is logic and facts." I paused. "Also…Grandfather was not able to make me with a heart."

"A what now?"

"A heart."

"So...you don't bleed?"

"No, I mean... like feelings." I folded my hands in my lap and elaborated. "I can't get angry, sad, happy, or any other emotion. I can't get lonely or enraged. I can only be…me. Like this. The reason I see everything so 'black and white', as you called it, is because I just don't have the _ability_ to feel and let emotions impact my thoughts and judgement. I only know right from wrong. What should be, and what shouldn't be. Facts. Logic. I run on information."

"Really? That sounds shitty. Sheesh, I shoulda paid more attention in Psychology." Jou muttered to himself. "Is that why you never smile?"

"I don't know how to. Since I lack the knowledge of the feelings connected to it." I admitted. "I tried to once, for Grandfather. But it was so unnatural. Wrong." There was a brief silence, and then I asked, "So, the ending thing…how do you know?"

"Know what?"

"When it's time to end."

_Will I end one day?_

Jou paled a bit, and he shifted around in his spot. I knew it was something I shouldn't have asked. He was uncomfortable. "Well…sometimes there are signs of it. Like cancer—you know what that is, right?" He asked, and I nodded. "And other times...it just..._happens_. Without warnin'. Just…you know. Done." His mouth was set in a deep frown, and the next time he spoke, it was so quiet that I could barely hear him. "Like with Yugi."

I blinked. The name was familiar. I had heard it before. While Grandfather was sleeping, he had muttered it.  
>"I'm familiar with the name... Who is Yugi?"<p>

"Who he _was_."

"Was?"

"I don't know if I'm allowed to tell you about it, Atem." Jou said, biting his lip.

"I want to know. Please."

He was silent, and then Jou took a deep breath. "Yugi was…my very best friend." He said with some difficulty, his voice thicker than usual. "He was by far the nicest guy you could ever know. He believed in the good of everyone, and trusted so much it was almost a fault. He could never resist a good mystery, adventure, game, or book. We used to hang out everyday after school – Tuesdays were burger day. That was his favorite food."

"What happened to him?"

"He died." Jou said simply, swiping his sleeve across his eyes. "Um…you know: ended. About five years ago. Right during senior year."

"How?"

"He was in a fire." He paused. "See, Yugi always wore this gold, upside-down pyramid puzzle thing around his neck. A gaudy looking thing, but he didn't care. Gramps gave it to him when he was eight, and it took Yugi a few years to solve it. Instead of getting out of the burning building, Yugi ran back to grab the puzzle because it was the most important thing to him – something his grandpa had given him all the way from Egypt. The puzzle survived, but Yugi…well, there was no way anybody could survive burns and trauma like that. He died on the way to the hospital." He took in a deep, shaky breath. "Gramps blames himself because the gift he'd given Yugi was the reason Yugi died. No matter what anyone tells him, or how much time goes by, he still feels responsible."

"That's—"

"Stupid, I know." Jou nodded. "But even though I know it's stupid…I blame myself as well. I should've stopped him. But he was so quick on those short legs...He was gone beore anyone realized he'd ran back."

"It's not Grandfather's fault, and it's not yours, either." I replied. "Maybe I can say this because I can't feel and I haven't been alive long – so I can think in an unbiased way – but it all seems…pointless to me. It's not anyone's fault. It just…happened. Things happen all the time."

"Yeah, I know, Atem." He sighed and looked up at the ceiling from under his bangs. "I know." Jou and I sat there in each other's company, silent. We listening to the steady ticks of the clock, both lost in our own thoughts until it was time for Jou to leave.

* * *

><p>It was only a matter of time, of course, until Grandfather would find out that Jou told me about his late grandson.<p>

It was a day like any other, three weeks after my conversation with Jou. I was helping Grandpa in his lab – lately he'd been working hard on something important, though he would not tell me what or why or any other specifics. I didn't ask, either. It was not my place to question. I again figured that if I needed to know, he would tell me.

I was grabbing a disc for him off of the cluttered desk when I saw it.

A photo frame, tipped over on it's front. Like it was something painful that Grandfather could not bear to look at for long periods of time. I picked it up and looked at it, simply curious. The boy in the photo seemed to be the same age I was supposed to look – around seventeen. He had ebony spiked hair tipped with crimson, and golden bangs framed a round, smiling face. At first I was a little surprised. It looked like a photo of me…and yet it wasn't. He was boyish in his looks, where my face was sharper – more defined. I was tan where he was pale. Our hair, though similar, was different as well. His eyes…I couldn't take my own off of them. They were a wide, bright, gemstone amethyst. Something about them held my attention, and I carefully reached out a finger to touch the glass, something deep inside me was moving - but I could not name the sensation. But it was gnawing at me. Was it my data trying to tell me something? Or was it intuition?

"Atem?" Grandfather was suddenly behind me, and I pulled my finger away. "What is it?"

"Is this Yugi?" I asked before I could stop myself. I heard Grandfather's sharp intake of air, and I quickly set the picture back on the desk the way I found it. "My apologies, Grandfather. I just...I didn't..." I readied myself for some kind of reprimand – which, of course, never came. Eventually, I looked around to him. He blinked, obviously surprised that I knew. Then that familiar look of sadness came to his eyes. I shouldn't have asked. It was none of my business.

"Did Jou tell you?" He wondered, but I could tell he already knew the answer. I nodded. Even if he hadn't already guessed, there was no way I would ever lie to Grandfather – in fact; I just didn't lie period. I probably could, but I never did. Even I, with my limited knowledge of the world, knew it was a pointless thing to do. Something that only would cause more trouble than what it was worth.

"Yes. Jou told me."

"That boy." Grandfather chuckled. He did not sound angry. Just understanding; like he knew Jou couldn't keep quiet about it for long.

"I asked him about it. It's not his fault."

"No, I suppose it's my fault. I should've told you from the beginning." He picked up the picture and set it upright, so we could see Yugi again.

"He was your grandson." I said, looking at the picture again. "Who died in a fire."

It wasn't a question, but he still answered. "Yes."

"Because he wanted to...save the puzzle."

Grandfather's eyes tightened.  
>"Yes," his nod was curt.<p>

"And…his favorite food was burgers." I added, not sure why I was mentioning it. A tear slipped out of Grandfather's eye, and he placed a hand on my shoulder, like he needed to steady himself. I finally looked away from the picture to him, noticing how familiar they really looked. They had the same eyes. Same round face. I was sure Grandfather's hair used to be black, too.

"It was." Grandfather finally said, his voice barely over a whisper.

We ended up spending the rest of that day sitting in the lab, ignoring work and talking about him. About Yugi. I learned about his friends, his dreams, his hobbies, and his fears. How when he was born, he was premature by almost a month. How he almost didn't make it. How he was stronger than he looked. How his mother died during labor and how his father was in a car crash on the way to the hospital. How Grandfather took care of him like he was his own. How he had to go to the emergency room when he had ridden his bike right into a mail truck at six years old. How he always put mustard on his hot dog before the ketchup. How he had caught a fly ball at a baseball game and wouldn't stop talking about it for the next five days. How he could solve expert puzzles in only a few hours or less.

I learned every part about Yugi, no matter how small and irrelevant it seemed. it was like a gushing river. Once Grandfather started talking about him, he couldn't stop. I heard the sadness, the pride, and the love in Grandfather's tone. I suspected that he needed this. He needed to just talk about Yugi to someone. But he'd been alone until I came to be. By the time Grandfather had lapsed into silence after telling me about Yugi's top scores in school, I felt as if I knew the boy who had already died five years before I was born. Felt like I was already, as Jou called it, a friend of his.

And then, after Grandfather had had his long moment of silence, I finally learned why I was created. As he talked me, I watched as he folded and unfolded his hands in his lap, listening to every word with rapt attention. My creation was originally thought up a year after Yugi's death. I was to fill the empty spot that Yugi had left. Grandfather wanted to somehow bring some part of Yugi back into the world. He pulled out all sorts of papers and diagrams for me to look at. The earlier designs were made to look Yugi him and act like him. Then Grandfather explained how it actually turned out differently. He had wanted Yugi back, but he didn't want a replacement. He couldn't stand the thought of replacing his grandson so simply. However, he was so far into his research that he couldn't just stop. He needed to see it through - prove that the past years were meaningful. I started as a copy, but became something real instead. I became another grandson to him.

After that, we moved to the dining room. I made coffee, and Grandfather talked more of the past. Not just about Yugi, but about himself. The roads he had taken, the places he'd seen. As the clock upstairs chimed the early morning hour to us, our long conversation slowed. Eventually, Grandfather headed to bed with a soft "goodnight." He hugged me, and, for his benefit, I returned it as normally as I could. Long after he was asleep, I stayed awake. I thought about what it would be like if I could've personally known Yugi myself. What it would be like if, somehow, I had been alive as a human in his time. Or if he were still alive and we somehow could meet. How different I might be because if it. I dearly wished for any of these possibilities, because I wanted to meet him. For the first time, I got the sense that I was lonely, though perhaps in a different way than Grandfather.

And, like I had thought when I first booted, it was, indeed, a cold feeling.

And the gnawing was still eating me alive.

* * *

><p>Please review<p> 


	4. Death

Ope. I was gone quite a while, wasn't I? I'm not going to explain why, because, honestly, it's not really anyone's business. I am, however, quite disappointed in some of you. I can't believe that some would actually send me angry reviews and messages just because I haven't updated in a while. First of all, those of you who did need to calm down. Second of all, I am the author. I know exactly how long it's been since I updated. And lastly, my writing is not the most important thing in the world. For the few who decided to get angry and accuse me of quitting, I am very disappointed. I don't just quit my stories. If I post it, that means I will finish it. And I don't appriciate any of you sending me angry and rude messages. That doesn't really make me _want_ to write, you know.

* * *

><p>"Grandfather?" I asked, stepping down the path that led into the lab. It was a mess. Papers - wadded, crumpled, and rejected – littered the floor. Wires criss-crossed every which way and were plugged into countless things. Old styrofoam cups and some mugs – few still containing what was now cold, stale coffee – were stacked precariously on the edge of a small table near the stairs. He'd been pulling an all nighter. <em>Again<em>. I stepped over the garbage; carefully making my way through the wreckage over to him.

He also was a sight to behold. He was slumped over the desk, sleeping - in a way that couldn't possibly be comfortable, especially with his back. He was going to be sore when I awoke him. I stepped closer and bent over slightly, bracing my hands upon my knees to assess him better. Rather large, purplish shadows were forming under his eyes, and his fine, gray hair was rumpled and messy. His green bandana was all but forgotten in his intense focus on his current work. It struck me as odd, but this was the first time I've ever seen him truly look his age. In this position, his wrinkles were accented. Deepened. Had he always had such long crow's feet or laugh lines? He looked as if he had aged ten years in the one that had passed since that night we talked. It unnerved me somewhat to see it. To see this great man, my creator, looking so frail.

My eyes strayed over to the figures and diagrams on the papers he'd fallen asleep over. It looked like data sheets of my program. What was he working on? What was so important that he'd neglect himself so much for? I wanted to know. Of course I did. He'd been cooping himself down in his lab, working so diligently on something, stopping only to eat, drink, and sleep. But it was not my place to spy. Nor to ask him directly - though he often tells me it's okay to ask questions. I was torn between wanting to ask him and respecting his privacy, but I told myself he would involve me when he needed.

Did all humans do this? Work themselves to the brittle bone until they can no longer keep it up? Exhaust themselves so badly, then shrug it off like it was no big deal? Only return to their hectic lifestyles, too wrapped up in their vision of success to remember to just stop and breathe. If my creator - the greatest man I knew - did it, I was sure everyone else did, too. I did not think humans were put upon this earth to work so hard, yet they do anyway. Did I want to be like that?

No. That is not what I wanted to be. I would be better. I would learn from their mistakes. Living is what's really important, the goal is to being satisfied when your done. Have no regrets. I would take pride in the smaller things I was able to do. Isn't that how it's supposed to be? Live a life filled with joy and fulfillment?

I shook my head. Lately I had been wondering more and more what it would be like to be human, but none of that was possible for me. Not only was I _not_ human, but I also had no emotions. I was not born, I was created. I will never know sadness, loneliness, or happiness. These things were just words to me. Little words that I could easily define, but never acually feel. Maybe it was better that way. Maybe feelings just destroy you in the end. I wouldn't know. Odds are that I never will. But I figured it was true - after all, feelings are what drove Grandfather to create me in the first place.

But not even I can deny that I have wondered what it was like to love.

"Grandfather," I said, placing my hand on his shoulder. He opened a weary eye, looking at me. "Wake up. If you need to sleep I can take you to your room."

"No...no need for that." He managed to pull himself up off the desk and into a sitting position, looking around. "I believe I'm becoming a workaholic. Can't believe I actually fell asleep here." He went to stretch, and I heard the muffled popping of his old joints spreading and rubbing together. He rubbed his back, wincing, and I helped him stand up. His skin felt warm to the touch – more than warm. Hot. My sensors alerted me that he was running a fever.

"Grandfather—" I started immediately, but he stopped me with a simple wave of his large hand.

"Don't you worry about it, Atem." He said. "Just starting to wear myself out. Nothing a good meal and sleep can't fix."

I so deeply wanted to set him straight. To tell him what he already knew; that he needed to pause his work for a while and relax. That nothing was more important than his health. I should have made him go to his bed and sleep. But I held my tongue. Telling myself, again, that it was not my place to go against my creator. To tell him what to do would be to go against every bit of my programming. Grandfather was a grown man. He could make his own decisions, live his own life. I had no right to speak to him as if he were merely a child.

No, I was not human. But, as I helped grandfather up the stairs, I couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to be.

* * *

><p>Two weeks later, despite all my warnings for him to abstain from his work, he still was pulling many long hours in his lab. he was still working on that project. After so long of keeping to myself, I finally asked him what he was working on. He had simply said it was a work in progress, and that I would need it. But what was it?<p>

"Grandfather?" I called, knocking on his bedroom door. "Are you awake?" I opened the door quietly and stepped into his room, keeping a constant watch on the figure lying in bed. Grandfather's eyes opened slowly, and he turned his head to look at me. A smile, faint on the corners of his mouth, was the only thing he gave to confirm that he was, indeed, awake. I gripped the tray in my hands, unsettled.

"I brought you some soup." I said, setting the tray on the end table by his bed. The smile grew more pronounced, but it did not seem the same. The natural charm was gone. If anything, it looked as if the toll of all his sleepless nights was finally catching up with him. In the worst way. He looked thinner and weaker than I had ever seen him. The very sight made me talk more, trying to fill a gap I knew I could not reach. "I'm still new to cooking you food, though, so it might be a little…Well, I did just what the directions said, so it should be fine. I apologize that I can't do more, Grandfather."

"Don't apologize." He said, sounding as if he were still asleep. "You have done more than enough. I am a lucky man."

"There must be something more I can do for you." I insisted. "Let me take you to the hospital."

"Never liked hospitals." he grunted, sitting up.

"Grandfa-"

"Atem."

I closed my mouth. it felt like just yesterday that Grandfather was happy and healthy, teaching me the ways of the world as we strolled down the street. This was my fault. As his creation, I should have caught the signs of his sickness before it got so bad. I should have tried harder to get him to go easy on work. I should have done more to protect him. This was the man who made me. The one who'd pulled me along by the hand. The man who gave me life, brought me to this world. There had to be something I could do for him. _Anything_. What good was a machine that couldn't even take care of its master?

"I have failed in every part of my programming." I said.

"Atem." He looked stern. "Listen to me. This isn't your fault."

"You are wrong, Grandfather. I should have—"

"No." He shook his head slightly. "Don't. I know you feel compelled to do everything I say because I created you, but I want you to stop. You have your own mind. You can do things yourself. You don't need to await me to approve everything you do. You've got your free will. You weren't programmed to do everything I ask. You were programmed to live."

"I can't live in this world with how I am. I may have my own mind, but I am not free."

"How so?"

"I am trapped. I can do whatever I want, but I don't even know what it is I want. The only thing I know is serving you."

"Open up your mind more, Atem. Stop confining your thoughts to that of a machine. You are more than that. I created you to be more." He paused, as if thinking. "I don't think I'll be around much longer."

"Don't say that. There are doctors—"

"I'm old, Atem." He let out a sigh that turned into a couple short coughs. "Even if I could be helped now, there wouldn't be much point to it. Because what if it happened again? And then again? My body can only handle so much, and I'm tired. I've lived a good, long life. There is no point to prolonging something that will definitely happen eventually. I am satisfied."

"So you're just going to give up?" I asked. I could not understand. What was he saying? What on earth would I do – what would I be – without him around to guide and help me? Just some machine. I was already just a machine, but at least I had a purpose: to serve him. Who would I serve when he's gone? What would I do? How would I occupy my endless time when he was gone? How could I be more when I was in this limited state?

"That's not it." He said calmly. "I'm not 'giving up'. I am just accepting this. I have to, or else I'd be fighting a useless battle. I don't want to be kept alive by machines. What life is that - just laying in a bed and breathing?" He scooted himself up higher. He reached out a hand, holding it out, palm up, to me. I immediately stepped closer and took his hand, waiting because I knew he was about to say something else. "Atem, I want you to live your life. I want you to be free to do what you want."

"To do what I want." I repeated. He released me. I closed my eyes. Waiting for the lightning, the earthquake – anything. Some bit of this "magic" humans desperately clinged to.

But I still felt the same as before. No emotions of any kind. Nothing. I was merely just here. A machine with nothing else but his creator. Maybe not even that anymore. I let out a breath and opened my eyes again. I was free to do whatever I wanted, I had been before. Nothing was different. But I would still stay here with him.

_What do I want?_

"I want you to be your own person." Grandfather said.

"But I don't even know how to." I replied.

He tilted his head, and some of his young vigor returned to his smile. For the last time I would ever see.  
>"Don't worry." He said, and he picked up the tray I had brought in, preparing to eat. "You will. When I'm gone, look in the lab."<p>

* * *

><p>I do not think I will ever understand the point of wearing black at funerals. It is symbolized as an evil and depressing color, isn't it? People should be wearing something happier, like white. The point of funerals is to celebrate the life of the deceased, so why wear black? I only comforted myself with the thought that at least Grandfather was no longer in pain. He could not feel anything at all now. Just like me, he was emotionless. Expressionless. And that was the scariest thought.<p>

Sometimes I think that maybe I was the one who is black. What other color do I have besides it? I have no feelings and no heart. I was simply just here. I was not born, I was created. I have no mother, no father. My creator was the closest I had to that, and now he was gone. What was left for me? He told me to live my life. Be my own person. But how could I do that when I am not even human? I was nothing more, nothing less than a machine. The dark nothing that I was made in lived inside me, I was sure.

Black. It is dark. Tainted. Associated with fear, hate, and the unknown - or just simply nothingness. Black denotes strength and authority. Black is the color of demon's wings. It's cold and unforgiving. Hurtful. Black means confusion and secrets. Black takes everything and then gives back nothing.

I did not like black. I did not want to be black. I did not want the darkness waiting for me at the edges. I would rather be something else. Something like white. White is a peaceful color. It is light, goodness, innocence, and purity. It's the color of perfection. It is safe. It's warm. Protective. White gives everything and asks for nothing. if Yugi were alive, perhaps that is what he'd be. I wondered if he would blame me for his grandfather's death.

A zebra can not change it's stripes, just as I can not control my nature.

"Atem. You ready to go?" A voice suddenly called through my thoughts. A warm pressure settled on my shoulder, and I looked up, torn between my musings and the present world in which I no longer had a purpose. Jou looked back at me, his face lined with grief.

"Is it over?" I asked. He gave a tight-lipped nod. I looked back to the ground where Grandfather was just buried. That was something else I didn't get: why do they bury bodies of the dead in such fine caskets? Why not just burn them and set the ashes free in the wind? Return what came from the earth back to the earth. It made a lot more sense. And somehow, I think that Grandfather would've preferred to float free on the wind than be stuck in the ground to just rot away. But there was no will to be found after his death, so I couldn't know for sure. Just a note Jou found that read, "Everything of mine belongs to Atem." Jou was able to deal with all the legal stuff with my help. So now, that big place and everything in it was mine. How ironic.

"C'mon, buddy." Jou said. His tone was lined with something so familiar. In an instant, I knew what it was. _Sadness._ The same sadness that haunted Grandfather's soul, even on his brightest days. The sadness that stays in you and, even though it dulls, it never leaves. I couldn't help but compare it to a parasite. As soon as it's host dies, it latches onto another. Then another. Slowly taking hold of the entire world. I still did not agree with the phrase "Time heals all wounds." It will always be there.

I let Jou lead me away from the fresh grave. He opened the passenger door for me, and I climbed into his silver car. And, as we drove away, I was still wrapped up in my many thoughts. Grandfather told me to live my life. Be free. To do what I wanted. But what was it I wanted? I was alive, and what more could I want? I looked over to Jou, and saw fresh tears runing down his cheeks as he watched the road. I touched my own face; completely dry. Not surprising. I did not have emotions. I knew I should be feeling saddened - after all, my creator was now dead - but I was as empty as I had ever been. A big span of canvas, still not used. I looked out the window, greeting the end.

But all ends are also new beginnings. We just don't know it at the time.

* * *

><p>Please review<p> 


	5. Passing

Time passes. Things change. The grass grows. The flowers bloom. The wind blows. People laugh. People cry. All of them age. I do not.

I only truly realized this - the impressive weight that time holds on the human race - when I decided to read. Of course, before, I had Grandfather with me. I was so busy in serving him that I never took it upon myself to do...well, anything else. But when one is given limitless time, one craves activities to fill said time. And, since I now had years of time, eons of time, I read every book in Grandfather's study. Every science journal, every biography, every world map. And when those books where done, and I had yet to fill the creeping hole of emptiness inside me, I found myself constantly wandering to the library that was an hours walk from home. The librarian once asked me if I wanted a library card, but I said no. I could not get one, anyway. I was created. I had no real identity to buy one. I think if I had been given permission to take the books home, I would never again return them. Like this one:

_"Try to imagine a life without any time keeping._

_You probably can't. You know the exact month, the year, the day of the week. There is always some device for keeping time around you.  
>There are schedules, calendars, times for dinner or movies.<em>  
><em>Yet, all around you, timekeeping is ignored. Birds are not late. A dog does not check its watch. Deer do not fret over passing birthdays.<em>  
><em>Man alone measures the time.<em>  
><em>Man alone chimes the hour.<em>  
><em>And, because of this, man alone suffers a paralyzing fear that no other creature endures.<em>  
><em>A fear of time running out."*<em>**  
><strong>

A human being had already discovered what I did. That time is everywhere on earth. That it does not relent. It moves on even if other things never change. I am no different from a human. As the time goes by, I can only find myself wondering, "When is my time up?" "How long was I designed to keep going?" "How much longer will I be living alone?" "How long do I keep moving forward with no goal?" And, "If I do finally break down, would anyone notice I was gone?" "Who would mourn my pointless existence?"

I identified with Dor in the book. A man stuck in one place while he watches time go by. Slowly convincing himself that there is no end.

Sometimes, I am able to lose track of time, even if for a while. I keep myself busy. Everyday feels the same, so it feels like forever, but also like no time is actually passing. Like the universe is somehow on pause. However, I am not able to fear the end as a human would. I know, deep down, that it will come, but I am unable to dread the day or feel relieved that I will not be here forever.

I was a stalemate. Not moving forward, yet not going back either.

* * *

><p>Jou visited as often as he could, though the intervals between each visit grew longer and longer. He genuinely considered me as his friend, I knew. But, as he built his life and went on, I was no longer a top priority. I did not hold this against him, though. I understood. He had a life, and I never changed. Every time he visited, I was the same. And how long could a growing adult be friends with a seventeen year old before it became odd?<p>

I got to witness first hand what it was like for time to go by. see it in action. His hands became rough from his first job - "Nothin' like some good manual labor for the body!" - His features grew more mature - "I look more like a man than a thug now, right?" - He gained a little weight around his stomach, but not enough to really be noticed - "I ain't worried about it. I was too skinny anyway." - His sister went through surgery - "Finally got to see the sunset with me after so many years." - He fell in love - "You should see her! Such a stubborn, fiery thing." - He became a father; while his own father ended up dying of alcohol poisoning - "It's weird he's gone, but he wasn't much a father, anyway. I hope I never become like him. My daughters the light of my world. I can't imagine hurtin' her."

I heard that time heals all wounds. But I can't fully agree. Jou is proof. For everything bad that happened to Jou, he had a smile to fight it back, but I know deep down there were things he still hurt over. The mind can cover the wounds with scar tissue, and the pain lessens, but it is never truly gone. Sometimes, Jou stares wistfully at Grandfather's door, as if he were picturing the old man standing in the frame. Jou had also developed a habit of fidgeting around whenever he was inside the house.

I once asked him about it.  
>"Why are you so restless?"<p>

He stopped scratching his neck, a little surprised, and sighed. "Somehow, I always forget that you don't have a heart..." he muttered. He regarded me seriously, then, dropping his hand, he said, "This place has so many memories for me. I'm restless because…well, it's like I've passed myself in a thick fog, and my heart jumps and I think 'Look! There I am! I've been missin' that piece!' But it happens too fast and it's gone in the fog again. That's what this place does to me." At this point, he folded his hands in his lap and stared at them. "Those two – Gramps and Yugi – were my pieces. But…unlike someone who had yet to find their piece, I actually had mine...and I lost them. There's no way for me to really ever be…complete again." I watched as his hands constricted, his knuckles turning white.

"Honestly, my life wasn't the same after Yugi died…I went to a dark place that Gramps eventually got me back from. I guess you could say I was comforted by the fact that I still had a part of Yugi with me here in the world – his grandpa. But now that both of them are gone, I just…" He suddenly looked up at me, eyes pleading. "But don't get me wrong! I'm a very happy man. I've been more fortunate than I could have ever hoped for when I was younger. It's just that…I miss them. Yanno?"

"I think I do." I said, placing my hand on my chest. "I cannot feel as you do, as you know, but I understand. You're…lonely."

He leaned back in his chair, thinking. "I suppose that _is_ one way to put it. When Yugi first died, I was so lonely all of a sudden. Like, when I felt lonely, I _really_ felt lonely. I couldn't believe anyone else in the world could manage to feel as lonely as I had. But, eventually I realized that I wasn't the only to feel like that. I wasn't the only one to lose someone close. II wasn't the only one who loved Yugi. don't think Gramps ever got over it, despite how he acted…he was jus' good at hiding it - and that loneliness is how you came to be, of course." He nodded in my direction, then continued, "So I guess you could say I'm lonely without them…yet I am not really lonely. I have others in my life that fill the void."

He frowned. "Doesn't make much sense, but it's the best way I can put it…I'm sorry, Atem." He placed a hand on my shoulder. "I wish you could feel things for yourself and understand completely, but, honestly, at the same time I'm glad you can't. There are both good and bad feelings. And while the good things are good, the bad things are bad. Feelings are more powerful than anything else. I'm sorry, but I wouldn't wish that kind of loneliness and sadness on anyone. Not even my worst enemy."

I had tried to smile at him, but I don't think it came across right.

I had already learned that loneliness was something negative, but that day I had come to discover that it was even more. A feeling that could hurt as much as a deep physical wound. A thing that could both press and oppress, could distort the ordinary and play tricks with your mind. That was what loneliness really tried to do, and that was what one should never let it do.

_Feelings are more powerful than anything else...  
><em>_If I had a heart, would I fail under the weight of it?_

* * *

><p><strong>*Quote comes from the book "The Timekeeper" by Mitch Albom<strong>

Please review.


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